


Bitter Pills & Sweet Dreams

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Drug Use, Enemies, Enemies to Friends, Fainting, Frenemies, Hallucinations, Injury Recovery, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Nygmobblepot, One Shot, Psychotropic Drugs, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Surprise Kissing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Ed dissatisfied despite his success as a supervillain, resorts to his pills to share his latest victory with Oswald with unfortunate consequences.For an anonymous request on Tumblr





	Bitter Pills & Sweet Dreams

Ed tossed the block of gold bullion over his shoulder.  
It landed with a clang on top of the numerous other blocks piled haphazardly in the corner.  
He passed a line of paintings, all purloined from private collections or museum exhibits, and ran a finger distractedly along the frames.  
He hung his hat on its usual hook: a genuine rhino horn, polished, gold tipped with its ivory surface decorated with intricate scrimshaw.  
Despite his frequent use of it, he couldn’t remember where he had stolen it.

He sighed as he stood, hands in his pockets as he regarded his latest prize.

A gigantic diamond sat on a plush red cushion that itself sat on a specifically constructed pedestal Ed had designed to display it. It was ideally placed so the light from the disco ball set into the ceiling would catch it, causing hundreds of rainbow coloured specks to dance and twirl around the walls.  
It was beautiful just as Ed had planned it to be.

So, why wasn’t he happy?

True, he had anticipated more of a challenge in obtaining the diamond but in the end he had actually overcompensated. It had been on display at a charity event with no electronic security of any kind. No doubt because the organisers had thought the wealthy attendees would have seen the diamond as pocket change or so large it could be considered ‘vulgar’. All it had taken was one smoke bomb, one pull of the fire alarm and a suitably expensive looking tureen to hide it under as Ed had exited the building in his chosen guise as a waiter.  
He hadn’t even needed to use any riddles.  
Perhaps the lack of challenge was irritating him? He hated to see hard work go to waste and he had spent weeks planning the strategy.  
Even as he examined his feelings, he was becoming increasingly aware of a weight in his breast pocket.

It was a small pill box.  
Ed had begun carrying it again a few days ago.  
The pills inside the box were all that remained of the batch he had created when he had first been finding himself as the Riddler.  
He was carrying them as a reminder that he had faced such periods of melancholy before. Despite the fact he was now a successful ‘supervillain’ (as the media flatteringly styled him), he had been feeling increasingly unsatisfied with his successes.  
He cast a critical eye around his lair and ironically was annoyed when he found nothing that displeased him.  
Which meant his dissatisfaction was nothing to do with the material gains of his crimes.  
It was spiritual.

He took the pills out and examined them.  
As he turned the box thoughtfully in his fingers, a memory surfaced.  
Him standing with Oswald in front of Gertrud’s statue. Oswald asking if his mother would be proud of what he had achieved. Oswald saying his newfound power as mayor was nothing since he had nobody to share it with.

‘Oswald’, Ed sighed.

The last time he had seen Oswald had been the week before at the Iceberg Lounge’s Christmas Party. Ed had not been invited so he had gate crashed.  
He had kept an uncharacteristically low profile, dressed in black and white without his glasses and a good quality fake moustache. It had been such a popular party that he had blended in with the crowd perfectly, watching Oswald flit around, more social butterfly than Penguin, enjoying his club’s popularity and the compliments on the festive décor. Ed had stayed by the bar the whole time, too stubborn to leave despite his growing disquiet that he was alone on Christmas at a party he had only gone to out of spite. At the end of the night, Oswald had made a speech on stage, thanking everybody for coming and proposing a toast. Ed had abruptly left when Oswald had mentioned ‘absent friends’ and managed to somehow look genuinely sad and thoughtful about it.  
Despite Ed knowing the sentiment was obviously faked, he hadn’t been able to get that look out of his head since.

He heard a popping noise and realised he had opened the pill box.  
He licked his lips even as he felt his mouth go dry. He knew this had been coming.  
What was the point in fighting it anymore?  
Hands shaking, he deposited one grainy pill into his palm and, closing his eyes, put it in his mouth. He rolled it around on his tongue, the tang of the coating making his taste buds sting. Moving it into position between his teeth he bit down gently, feeling the coating bend with the pressure but not break.  
He had to get this malaise out of his system somehow. He may as well give in to the experience and savour the rush.  
He fumbled with his belt buckle, heart racing with anticipation and the warmth of arousal blossoming in his lower stomach. The heady, tantalising combination overpowered the feelings of defeat, shame and loneliness that had been building for days.  
Ed lay back on a nearby chaise lounge and, once he was ready (mentally and physically), bit down hard.

 

Oswald watched Ed sleep, the beeping of the heart monitor the only sound echoing in the quiet mansion.  
He glanced at the pill box sitting on the nightstand.  
Fries had not been able to figure out how many Ed had taken when Oswald had found him lying unconscious in his hideout.

Oswald closed his eyes and replayed the scene.

It had taken him a week to track Ed down to his newest bolt hole, the theft of the ‘Pretzel Diamond’ with the standard green question mark calling card left in its place providing Oswald with all the information he needed. The venue where the diamond had been on display was near the docks so Ed’s safehouse would be nearby. He had them all over the city like rat nests. It had not taken Oswald long to figure out which one of the numerous abandoned buildings Ed was hiding in.  
‘Die Antwort’ had been a popular Bavarian beerhouse before health code violations had closed it down. Its name translated to ‘the answer’ and the connection between beer and pretzels was obvious though Oswald considered it rather contrived and unimaginative for Ed.  
It may as well have had a neon sign pointing to it.

Oswald had wanted to confront Ed about what he had been doing at the Lounge’s Christmas party uninvited. The impudence of his presence had been annoying Oswald for the entire week. Some of his more vocal (and unintelligent) henchmen had suggested perhaps Oswald was overreacting. They had been silenced quickly.  
Ed’s presence had not been what had been irritating Oswald.  
It was the manner in which Oswald had noticed Ed’s presence.  
He had no idea when Ed had arrived but he had seen him leave. It had been in the middle of his speech when Oswald had recognised him despite his disguise. He knew those long strides anywhere.  
Before Oswald could do anything Ed had vanished into the night and Oswald still had no idea what he had been after. He still had people searching the Lounge for bugs or explosive devices but Ed seemed to have planted nothing of the sort during his visit.

Regardless of Ed’s intentions, his intrusion demanded reprisal. Oswald had deliberately gone to Ed’s hideout alone. Ed did not use henchmen, preferring to operate autonomously and Oswald was confident in his own safety thanks to the weapons concealing umbrellas he had begun to carry.  
Oswald had easily located the entrance to Ed’s hideout and picked the lock, savouring the irony that a skill Ed had helped him learn was helping him gain entry.  
He had gone to the hideout expecting a confrontation of some kind.

Not to be confronted with Ed unconscious and foaming at the mouth.

All thoughts of vengeance and spite had vanished from Oswald’s mind as he had desperately struggled to help Ed regain consciousness.  
Halfway through CPR a dark thought had strayed into Oswald’s brain.  
Why was he trying to help a man who hated him? He should just leave him to die.  
Ed wouldn’t help him after all.  
The thought had been so poisonous and the dark memories floating to the surface of his brain so consuming that Oswald had actually stopped CPR for a brief moment.  
Until his eyes had strayed to the empty pill box in Ed’s hand and he had instantly resumed the compressions without a second thought.

It had taken several rounds before Ed had come around and promptly thrown up all over the floor. Oswald had slapped him gently a few times to help bring him round then slapped him hard once for getting into the situation in the first place.  
Then, Ed, delirious had had the unmitigated gall to smile gently up at Oswald and reach for his face before passing out again. 

Oswald, once he was sure Ed was breathing properly had made the necessary arrangements to transfer Ed to his mansion. He had ignored the questioning looks from his subordinates as they had loaded Ed’s unconscious form into his limo. When he had summoned Ivy and Fries for their help and advice on the current situation, he had ignored their questioning looks too.

They still had no idea what he had taken. Or why.

Oswald yawned and looked out of the window. It was getting light outside.  
He could hear the sound of a TV from somewhere downstairs.  
Ivy had volunteered to stay at the mansion with Oswald in case Ed’s condition worsened. With Ed’s rap sheet a hospital was out of the question and it had taken Fries and Ivy a full hour to ensure Ed was stable. Thankfully Ed seemed to have purged some of whatever he had taken from his system on his own already. The IV in Ed’s arm was administering fluids now that one of Ivy’s gentler concoctions had done its job in clearing the poison from his veins.  
Oswald was grateful for Ivy and Fries’ assistance but also grateful for the space.

Oswald had been the one to undress Ed from his soiled clothing and place him in the bed. Fries had said it was best for Ed to be naked due to the risk of overheating. His sweat soaked clothing had been testament to that. Despite the negative scenario he couldn’t help but notice Ed’s thin frame as he had tucked him into the guest room’s bed. Ed had always been trim but it seemed he had lost some weight. Had tonight been the culmination of a building problem?

Oswald shook his head as he remembered the look on Ed’s face. His eyes had been unfocused but the smile had been real. As had been the name he had whispered before passing out. And had continuously whispered periodically on the journey to the mansion accompanied by...questionable moans.  
Oswald’s name.  
Oswald scowled.  
A pathetic ploy no doubt by Ed to convince Oswald not to kill him by capitalizing on Oswald’s feelings-former feelings for him.  
But then why had Ed been whispering things when he was unconscious?  
The drugs apparently greatly lowered inhibitions because Ed had been moaning and whispering things he would have never given voice to when awake. Especially in Oswald’s presence.  
Things like-

A moan from the bed attracted Oswald’s attention and he saw Ed open his eyes.  
They widened as he realised who was sitting by his bedside.  
Ed gave a start but winced as he tried to sit up and groaned as he gave a dry heave. He slumped back down, sweat coating his forehead.  
Oswald pressed a glass of water into Ed’s fingers, holding them in place until he was sure Ed had gripped the glass.

‘Sip it’, Oswald said, then offered Ed two black pills.

Ed eyed them warily as he sipped the water.

‘Activated charcoal’, Oswald explained, ‘To help absorb…whatever the Hell you took’.

Ed nodded and took them without further resistance. As he swallowed them, his eyes drifted down and widened as he realised he was naked.  
He tried to speak but only managed a cough.

‘Your clothes are being washed’, Oswald said, interpreting the unvoiced question, ‘They were a mess’.

Ed pulled the blanket up higher, cheeks colouring as he thought about who likely undressed him.  
And the condition he may have been found in.

To try and maintain some semblance of dignity, Ed cleared his throat and, ignoring the pounding headache and hollow grating sensation in his stomach, asked:

‘Why did you help me?’

‘Why did you take these?’ Oswald countered, presenting the pill box as evidence.

Ed’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t meant to take the whole box.  
After he had taken the first one, Oswald had not appeared as expected so he had taken another.  
It had taken the third pill to summon Oswald’s spectre from his psyche and a fourth to fool Ed’s brain to make Oswald’s… ‘ministrations’ feel like the real thing even though Ed knew deep down it was only his own hand on his erection.  
All too soon (and before Ed was even close to finishing) Oswald had begun to fade away like vapour. The encroaching feelings of loneliness had begun to return as well as the cold reality that Ed was only pleasuring himself and Ed had hastily swallowed another pill, his vision blurring and brain becoming clouded with sensory overload as the hallucination resumed twice as intense as before.  
The last thing he remembered was Oswald looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering as he had taken Ed’s whole, throbbing length into his mouth before the scene had abruptly faded to black.

‘Seems I’ve built up a resistance’, Ed said emotionlessly, ‘Don’t worry I won’t make that mistake again’.

He tried to ignore the telltale pressure of an erection between his legs, praying it was only standard ‘morning wood’ and it had not been present when Oswald had been undressing him.

‘To strong hallucinogens?’ Oswald asked sceptically.

‘How did-‘

‘Ivy was able to break down some of the natural ingredients to treat you. Fries is still analysing but he’s pretty sure these aren’t legal’.

Ed didn’t answer.  
Oswald’s irritation boiled over at the lack of an answer and Ed’s utter lack of gratitude.

‘You know, if you wanted me to fuck you, you could just ask’, he snapped, throwing the empty box into a nearby metal waste bin with a clatter.

Ed looked aghast at Oswald’s provocative declaration to Oswald’s immense satisfaction.

‘You talk in your sleep’, Oswald explained, ‘And let’s just say I found you ‘in a state of undress. I’ve heard of chasing the dragon but ‘a Penguin’?’

Ed took another sip of water, hands shaking.

‘That’s not true’, Ed said stonily, ‘But it’s a pretty pathetic lie from you’.

‘Relax Ed, this is Gotham’, Oswald said, employing a patronising tone to get under Ed’s skin even more, ‘Nobody cares about your unimaginative little sexual fantasies. They would have to involve livestock to even get a raised eyebrow. Besides only Fries heard and he didn't care’.

‘You heard too’, Ed said, crunching the plastic cup in his fingers as they curled into a fist, ‘Blackmail it is then?’

‘You have nothing I want’, Oswald smirked, ‘But by the sounds of things I have something you want. Very badly’.

‘Not as badly as you hope’, Ed said coldly, ‘You didn't answer my question. Why did you help me?’

‘If you want me in that way it will be on my terms and you’ll beg me for it. Like I know you want to’.

‘You know that’s not going to happen’, Ed scowled, unflinchingly yanking the IV out of his arm, ignoring the dot of blood welling in the crook of his arm where it had been inserted, ‘So why help me if you know there's nothing in it for you?’

‘Are you suggesting I shouldn’t have helped you?’ Oswald asked, watching the blood trickle down Ed’s arm, ‘Just left you lying there?’ 

‘Why can’t you just answer the question?!’ Ed demanded, slamming a fist down.

‘Because I don’t see why it matters!’ Oswald retorted, ‘Why do you care ‘why’ I did it?! You’re alive aren’t you?!’

There was a ringing silence and both men glared at each other.  
Sensing neither of them was going to capitulate, Oswald smirked mockingly.

‘It's not like I expect you to get on your knees and kiss my feet or anything. Unless of course you want to be on your knees?’

‘I might have known’, Ed growled, fingers gripping the bedsheets, ‘Sheer petty mockery. That's what you get out of this. Fine. If you don’t want to kill me, I can’t disagree with the decision. Thank you for your assistance Penguin’.

Ed’s refusal to use his real name rankled Oswald though he knew it logically shouldn’t have given his refusal to employ Ed’s preferred title.

‘My assistance in what regard?’ he asked, folding his arms, ‘Dragging you out of a pile of your own vomit or helping you get off in your sordid little sexual fantasies Edward?’

‘Shut up’, Ed snarled.

Oswald gave a bitter laugh.

‘I thought so!’ he exclaimed triumphantly, ‘But why me? Why not Kringle or ‘what’s her name? You know the one that was apparently so important to you but who you’ve never mentioned again? ‘Isabelle’ was it?’

‘I’m warning you-‘

‘Why does it have to be my tongue down your throat, my hands on your ass, my mouth around your-‘

‘I said ‘Shut Up!’ 

Despite his protesting body, Ed lunged for Oswald and grabbed him by the neck. Oswald’s eyes widened momentarily but then his expression changed to a glare tempered with a savage smile.  
Although Ed’s fingers were clasped around his neck there was no pressure. He could feel Ed’s arms shaking and saw his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed heavily. Sweat shone on his pale skin and Oswald couldn’t help but notice the obvious tent in the blanket between Ed’s legs.

‘You always did love a neck’, Oswald said, placing his hands over Ed’s.

Ed shook his head and blinked hard to dispel the headache and assorted pains and feelings of physical weakness pervading his body. 

‘I am leaving’, Ed declared defiantly, even as he felt Oswald begin to physically (and with little effort) pry his fingers from around his throat, ‘And you can’t stop me’.

Oswald tutted and touched Ed’s face.  
Ed’s lip curled as Oswald’s thumb traced over his mouth and he tried to ignore the warmth from his hand.

‘Oh Ed, when will you learn?’ Oswald purred, ‘The only one getting in your way is you’.

Ed was on his back before he realised what had happened. He struggled to rise but the pressure of Oswald’s hands on his shoulders holding him down seemed an insurmountable weight.  
Oswald leaned down, staring hard at Ed, so close their noses were almost touching.

‘You’re too weak to go anywhere and you know it. You’re a smart man or so you say so lie down, shut up and be grateful. Understand Riddler?’

Ed’s eyelids flickered a few times and Oswald saw him battling to avoid losing consciousness, the exertions too much for his strained body. His cheeks were coloured and he squirmed in the blankets in frustration. Seeing him so weak, Oswald loosened his grip slightly but this gave Ed the opportunity he needed.

He suddenly moved his head forward and kissed Oswald on the mouth before swiftly drawing back. His fever bright eyes stared deep into Oswald’s green widened orbs. His head was held high even as his shoulders slumped.

‘In your dreams’, Ed whispered.

Oswald barely had time to blink before Ed’s head fell back onto the pillow, unconscious once more.  
For one irrational moment Oswald thought he had imagined it but as he licked his lips his tongue picked up a tangy chemical aftertaste and scent he recognised from Ivy’s plants.  
He stood, at a loss of what to do now Ed was asleep again. He settled for pulling the blanket back over Ed’s chest and brushing some hair out of his face.  
Puzzled and angry at Ed’s chosen method of defiance and yet blushing all the same, Oswald returned to his chair.  
After a few moments, his own exhaustion claimed him and he fell asleep.  
Despite the emotional distance still between them and the weight of the past around their necks, for that night, their dreams were happy and the same.


End file.
